


Nostalgia

by angelfiregirl80



Series: Prompts [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Old Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:29:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5642638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelfiregirl80/pseuds/angelfiregirl80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now they were retired, and John was walking Gladstone the fourth; which gave Sherlock time to reminisce and go about their home, watching some pictures and wishing for John to come back soon, so they could talk, cook, watch crappy telly, or do whatever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nostalgia

**Author's Note:**

> Old age is hard...

Sherlock was feeling nostalgia, nostalgia of the days gone; but he wasn’t sad about it, he was rather happy, but he did miss the old times when him and John would go running around London chasing criminals, solving crimes, visiting the Yard, going to Angelo’s and sharing some Chinese or some Thai right after a case, watch crap telly until they were either to bored or to horny to keep watching it; or maybe making love by the fire, having impromptu sleepovers in the middle of the living room. He missed having sex on top of the kitchen table, and the bathtub too; he missed Mrs. Hudson’s biscuits and morning teas, and even missed Mycroft interrupting them like on cue whenever they were about to have a rather nice chair sex session.

Now they were retired, and John was walking Gladstone the fourth; which gave Sherlock time to reminisce and go about their home, watching some pictures and wishing for John to come back soon, so they could talk, cook, watch crappy telly, or do whatever. His mind was going crazy, he could hear the gears in his brain rotting and rusting, he needed a puzzle to solve, a crime scene to deduce, or his body fit back to at least attempt and have sex with John to stop being so bored.

His knees were killing him; his back was a mess too, but what could you expect from an old man approaching eighty. He heard the door and turned back to look at his husband, he looked tired, but he was happy and Gladstone was more than happy after their walk. To Sherlock, John looked exactly as he did when they first met, and he will always look at Sherlock with loving eyes and have for him the brightest smile. He couldn’t believe that in just a few days, they will be married for forty years.

John knew the look on Sherlock’s face, he was nostalgic, reminiscing about times gone far too long; he did miss the adrenaline of running along London with his madman, but their lives were beautiful, even though they were old and wrinkly, their minds weren’t as sharp as they used to be, and their bodies were less useful with every passing day. They had made a great life for themselves, John kept on writing about Sherlock’s cases and adventures they shared, and Sherlock kept on experimenting with crazy and dangerous stuff in their kitchen.

He learned to make biscuits like Mrs. Hudson and he would serve tea to his madmen; he’ll miss Mrs. Hudson every day, she was really nice to them, like their mother, so her loss was even more painful than they ever imagined. Hell, he’ll even miss Mycroft interrupting them, every Thursday, like on cue, whenever they were about to have some amazing chair sex.

In a couple of days they’ll be celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary, he had planned a party for that afternoon with their friends, the living ones of course, meaning Molly and her kids, their kids and their grandkids, their niece and their grandniece and grandnephew; and a few people they’ve met in Sussex. He was afraid that Sherlock might be on a foul mood, but seeing him, as melancholic as he was, he knew it was the best choice he could have made, having their family arrive in just a couple of hours.

The party went as planned, Sherlock was beaming, their grandkids always made him feel like a young man again; and John would tell them, over and over again how they met, how they solved their first crime, and how they kept on solving crimes now they were old and seemingly feeble. As an anniversary gift, John gave Sherlock a new beehive, new books about bees, and unsolved crimes he managed to get through their daughter, cold cases mostly, to keep his mind running.

After the party; he ran a bath for them both, it was something that made them feel young again, that they could share for a little while, then he made some dinner and they watched some crappy telly near the fire; like they have done so many times. They lived a happy life; sure they felt nostalgia, but at least Sherlock being bored, John loving him, they eating some Chinese or Thai on especial occasions, a few kitchen explosions, and sharing cuddly time near the fire, was something they’ll never miss, because they’ll do it all the time.


End file.
